


Friends With Benefits

by telperion_15



Category: Primeval
Genre: Angst, Character Death Fix, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, M/M, Misunderstanding, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:39:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan had a good thing going with with Stephen, until he died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends With Benefits

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a birthday fic for lukadreaming, for the prompt 'Stephen/Ryan, a new start'.
> 
> Spoilers for episode 1.06.

It wasn’t term that Ryan had ever thought he would apply to himself, but there was really no other way to describe what he and Stephen Hart were.  
  
Fuck buddies.  
  
Or perhaps, a little less vulgarly, ‘friends with benefits’.  
  
It had started, not very surprisingly, after an anomaly shout. Lots of running and hiding and chasing and shooting, and creatures with big teeth and narrow escapes and adrenaline flowing.  
  
So when Stephen had turned to him, grinning like a maniac, his eyes sparkling with excitement of having beaten the odds once again, it had seemed only logical for Ryan to grab him, push him up against the nearest tree and shove his tongue down Stephen’s throat.  
  
Of course, there was then the necessary pause while they finished up at the anomaly site, drove back to the Home Office, debriefed with Lester, and generally did all the boring stuff that came after the fun and danger.  
  
But then, when Cutter had disappeared with Claudia Brown, and Abby had left with Connor trailing after her like a puppy, and the rest of Ryan’s men had headed off in the direction of the nearest pub, Stephen had looked at him and asked simply, “My place?”  
  
Ryan nodded once, and half an hour later he was fucking a tight, hot arse, while Stephen writhed and groaned beneath him, pushing back against Ryan’s thrusts until they both collapsed to the bed in a mess of sweat and come.  
  
It became a semi-regular thing after that. Although they didn’t just fuck. The ‘buddies’ part of the arrangement applied too. They went out for the occasional drink and game of pool, the odd bike ride, a curry every now and again. And of course there were the continuing anomaly incursions, during which Ryan started to rely on Stephen’s knowledge and training more and more.  
  
But no matter what they were doing, or where they were, things always seemed to end up with them in bed together (although sometimes they didn’t even make it far as the bedroom). Ryan learned that Stephen really liked sucking cock, and loved to be rimmed before he was fucked. He also learned that _he_ really liked the feeling of Stephen’s cock splitting him open, and that he was able to come just from Stephen nailing his prostate as he pounded into him.  
  
They never talked about feelings. _Feelings_ didn’t come into it. Ryan sometimes thought he saw Stephen watching at him with an odd look on his face, but he always dismissed it. They were mates. Friends who fucked. It wasn’t a bad arrangement, and Ryan wasn’t about to rock the boat.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Then, apparently, he was dead.  
  
Then, apparently, he _wasn’t_.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ryan wished he could shut himself away somewhere, and the feeling pissed him off. He wasn’t the sort of person to hide from things, from his problems, but right now he couldn’t shake the desire to be out of limelight, away from all this scrutiny.  
  
It was the way people _looked_ at him.  
  
Lester constantly eyed him with suspicion, Jenny Lewis with sympathy. Connor made him feel like a particularly interesting lab experiment, and he kept expecting Cutter to drag him off somewhere and start firing questions at him about someone called Claudia Brown, whom Ryan had already said he didn’t remember. Even Abby, who could normally be relied upon to be sensible, was looking at him strangely.  
  
Stephen was the worse though. He seemed to have developed the habit of avoiding Ryan, and whenever they did run across each other accidentally Stephen got this look on his face like he’d seen a ghost, and tried to get away from him as quickly as could.  
  
The whole thing was doing Ryan’s head in. Hence the need to hide, to get away from people for a while. Not that that was going to happen, as Lester currently wouldn’t even let him leave the ARC.  
  
It didn’t help that, as far as Ryan was concerned, nothing particularly untoward had happened. Okay, so it was a bit weird that he’d woken up on his own at the Permian campsite and had to walk all the way back to the anomaly alone. That part didn’t make quite so much sense. And then there was the problem of about two months having apparently passed between him originally going through the anomaly, and coming back out of it again. But he intended to leave that issue to the scientists to solve.  
  
But he hadn’t been dead. A bit battered and bruised and bashed around, yes, but never _dead_ (there was no sign of the horrific injuries that Cutter described him incurring at the hands – or claws – of the future predator). And Ryan figured he would have remembered being dead. He also reckoned that he wouldn’t have been able to easily walk several miles in the hot Permian sun if he’d previously been _deceased_.  
  
None of it made sense and he didn’t know how to deal with it all.  
  
There was, however, one thing he could sort out.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
“Hart,” Ryan said, glancing around as he entered the locker room. He was pretty sure everyone else had left, but he wasn’t going to begin any conversations until he was sure they were alone.  
  
Stephen started visibly, and looked over his shoulder quickly. “Ryan,” he muttered in acknowledgement, before sticking his head back inside his locker in a remarkable impression of an ostrich burying its head in the sand.  
  
However, it didn’t take long before he realised that Ryan wasn’t going away, and that there was no chance of escape while Ryan was standing so close to the door. Ryan waited, and eventually Stephen shut his locker and turned to face him, obviously attempting to feign nonchalance, but missing it by a country mile. He was so tense that Ryan was pretty sure bullets would have bounced off him.  
  
“Did you want something?” Stephen asked.  
  
“Lester’s finally decided I’m not a threat to national security,” Ryan answered. “And that I am actually who I say I am. He’s not letting me back on the team yet, but he is letting me leave the ARC.”  
  
“That’s good news.” Stephen sounded as if he thought it was anything but.  
  
“However, since he’s also decided that I still need a babysitter, and since I don’t currently have a home to go to, I thought…” Ryan trailed off expectantly.  
  
Stephen’s eyes widened fractionally in surprise. Bingo.  
  
“You thought that I’d take you home with me?” Stephen finished for him. He looked away for a moment. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea, Ryan.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“What about Lyle? Or Ditzy? Or one of the others?” Stephen said, not answering Ryan’s question. “Why can’t you stay with one of them?”  
  
“Because Lyle would try to get me completely rat-arsed five seconds after walking through the door, Ditzy would insist on medically examining me to within an inch of my life in case there was something I’d managed to magically hide from the ARC doctors, Finn would bombard me with questions until I strangled him, and Blade would do that really unnerving thing he does where he stares at you and it feels like he’s looking right inside your head – which I can do without,” Ryan told him. “And Kermit’s out because I don’t want to impose on Cara.”  
  
There was a flicker of a smile from Stephen, but it was gone after only a second or two. “But you’re perfectly happy to impose on me,” he said flatly.  
  
“Come on, Hart,” Ryan pressed. “Help a mate out, yeah?”  
  
Stephen hesitated, and then sighed. “Fine,” he said shortly. “I’ll meet you in the car park in half an hour.”  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Relations didn’t improve in the car on the way back to Stephen’s place (Ryan wondered whether he would have to re-take the driving test before he’d be allowed to drive himself around again), and once they were inside the flat the only conversation consisted of Stephen showing Ryan the spare room (he knew where it was anyway), asking what he wanted to eat (after several weeks of ARC food, Ryan didn’t care, so long as it wasn’t processed crap), and a polite but chilly refusal of Ryan’s offer to do the washing up (which Stephen then proceeded to do as quickly as he possibly could).  
  
And as soon as the last plate landed on the draining board, Stephen dried his hands and disappeared in the direction of the living room without another word.  
  
Ryan hesitated for a couple of moments and then, sighing, went to the fridge and fished out a couple of beers, and followed Stephen.  
  
He found the other man staring fixedly at the television, obviously not paying the slightest bit of attention to the god-awful soap opera that was on the screen. Ryan held out a beer to Stephen, and when it was ignored, placed on a side table within easy reach of Stephen’s hand.  
  
He then scooped up the television remote from the coffee table, switched the television off, sat himself down in the armchair opposite Stephen, and took a long swallow of his own beer.  
  
“What’s the matter, Hart?” Ryan could have claimed he’d chosen the direct approach, but it would have been a lie. He didn’t know any method _other_ than the direct approach.  
  
“I was watching that,” Stephen said. He didn’t look at Ryan.  
  
“No, you weren’t,” Ryan told him. “I’ll ask again – what’s the matter?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“Oh, so we’ll just sit here in frosty silence for the rest of the evening and pretend that’s normal, shall we? Just like the incredible disappearing man act you’ve been pulling every time I’ve walked into a room the last few weeks is normal too.”  
  
Stephen muttered something.  
  
“Pardon me?”  
  
“I said, you died!” Stephen snapped.  
  
“Says you,” Ryan retorted, and then immediately wished he hadn’t. Being childish wasn’t going to help matters.  
  
“For fuck’s sake, Cutter _buried_ you! You were _dead!_ ”  
  
“Look, I don’t pretend to understand what’s been going on,” said Ryan carefully, “But I certainly don’t feel like I was dead.”  
  
“Well, _I_ did.” Stephen was back to muttering again, but this time Ryan caught the words.  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“ _I_ felt like you were dead, okay?” Stephen leapt to his feet suddenly. “You don’t get it, do you? From my point-of-view, you were bloody well gone, and you _weren’t coming back!_ ”  
  
The sudden silence that fell was a marked contrast to Stephen’s yelling. Ryan sat back in his chair, trying to absorb what he’d just heard. Stephen looked very much like he was regretting saying anything, and it seemed like he was going to pull his vanishing act again, never mind that this was his own flat.  
  
“Well,” said Ryan eventually, after a pause that felt a lot longer than it probably was, “how long has this been going on?”  
  
For a moment he wondered if Stephen would actually answer, or whether he was going to get another dose of the silent treatment. Then Stephen scrubbed a hand across his face, sighed, and sat down again.  
  
“Pretty much since the beginning,” he confessed, apparently to the floor.  
  
“And why didn’t you say anything?”  
  
“Because you obviously just wanted a bit of fun! And…well, at the start I was happy enough just to take what I could get.” Stephen smiled bitterly. “Doesn’t demonstrate a lot of self-respect, does it?”  
  
Ryan wisely kept silent.  
  
“And by the time I realised the whole thing wasn’t a good idea, I was in too deep, and I couldn’t have walked away even if I’d wanted to.”  
  
“So you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder since I got back because…?”  
  
“When you…died,” Stephen glared at Ryan quickly, as if daring him to contradict the description, and then returned his gaze to the carpet, “I didn’t handle it well. No one knew why – although I think Abby, and maybe Ditzy, suspected…”  
  
“Ditzy knew about us, I think,” Ryan interrupted. “I didn’t tell him, but he doesn’t miss a lot. And he’s not an idiot.”  
  
“Well, he never said anything to me, but I think he noticed I was sort of falling apart a bit,” Stephen said. “And then, when you came back, at first I couldn’t quite believe it. And then…well, I think I’d frightened myself with just how badly it had hurt when I lost…when… Anyway, I knew you didn’t feel the same, and I didn’t even know whether you’d want to pick up where we left off. So I just decided it was easier if I didn’t let myself get involved again.”  
  
“And how’s that working out for you?” Ryan asked bluntly.  
  
Stephen barked a harsh laugh. “Not very well,” he admitted.  
  
Ryan softened his tone. “You know, you could have asked me.”  
  
“Whether you wanted to pick up where we left off?” said Stephen.  
  
“Whether I felt the same way as you,” Ryan corrected him.  
  
“But you didn’t.”  
  
“But how do you know?” Ryan persisted.  
  
Stephen looked up at him hesitantly. He seemed at a loss for words, and Ryan decided to put him out of his misery.  
  
“Yes, at the beginning I was just after a ‘bit of fun’, as you put it,” he said. “We were mates, and I got a fair few shags out of it.” He shrugged. “Seemed like a good arrangement to me. But then something changed. Don’t ask me when or how or why, but it did.”  
  
Stephen still seemed be struggling for a response. “So…you…we…”  
  
“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to mess things up,” Ryan continued. “I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t sure. About your feelings, I mean. And to be perfectly honest, it kind of already felt like we’d crossed the line into something more than friendship without having to talk about it. After all, we did spend a lot of time together. In _and_ out of bed.”  
  
“So you do want to…?” Stephen gestured helplessly between himself and Ryan.  
  
“Pick up where we left off?” Ryan smiled. “I wouldn’t be adverse to the idea.”  
  
Stephen’s answering smile was wide and brilliant. “All right, then.”  
  
Ryan chuckled. “All right.” He stood up.  
  
“Where are you going?” Stephen asked in confusion.  
  
“Well, I was thinking of the bedroom. _Your_ bedroom. I’m pretty sure I remember where it is. Care to join me?”  
  
“Definitely!”  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ryan was happy to discover that Stephen’s favourite form of foreplay was still rimming, and he wasted no time in turning his lover into a panting, keening wreck as he licked around Stephen’s hole and pushed past the puckered ring of muscle to fuck him with his tongue.  
  
Then he replaced his tongue with his fingers, taking his time stretching Stephen open despite the other man’s demands for him to hurry. Now that they’d agreed that they were something more than just friends who shagged, Ryan wanted to mark the change and show that this was about more than just a fuck.  
  
But finally, when he was starting to test even his own patience, he rolled on a condom, slicked himself, and slid into Stephen in one smooth movement, his groan of satisfaction mingling with Stephen’s.  
  
Ryan kept his thrusts long, slow, and deep, drawing out the moment – not to tease or torture, but because he felt like they both deserved it after recent events. He still didn’t entirely understand what had happened to him, and there was still a lot of stuff to sort out, but at this moment things felt right. He felt like things might actually be turning out okay. And he wanted the moment to last.  
  
When he felt his orgasm starting to coil in his belly, Ryan reached around and grasped Stephen’s cock, stroking it to match the rhythm of his thrusts – long, slow pulls that drew Stephen’s own climax out of him in equally long waves, leaving him gasping and shaking.  
  
The sensation of Stephen tightening around him pulled Ryan’s own orgasm from him, and he emptied himself inside Stephen with a low groan.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
A short time later, Ryan found himself spooned up against Stephen’s back, the duvet pulled over them as they contemplated sleep.  
  
Stephen murmured contentedly, and curled his fingers around Ryan’s hand where it rested against his stomach. “Friends?” he asked, a smile in his voice.  
  
“I think we’re a bit more that friends now,” Ryan told him, pressing a kiss to Stephen’s shoulder blade.  
  
“A bit more than friends,” Stephen mused. “Still with benefits though?” he asked cheekily, pushing his arse back into Ryan’s crotch.  
  
Ryan laughed. “Definitely with benefits.”


End file.
